Within You Without You
by freaklock
Summary: this is so old holy shit it was an old rp on omegle
1. From Me To You

Chapter 1: From Me, To You

It had been a couple of days since Sherlock, who was 17 at the moment, had overdosed on his medication. Not because he wanted to die. He was just bored of the rigidity that this seemed to create and had decided to take a weeks worth in one sitting. Thankfully no permanent damage was done. Or so people kept telling him, quite frankly Sherlock couldn't care less. His body had betrayed him and so at this point he didn't care much for it.

With a soft sniff Sherlock fumbled for his phone on his bedside table.

How's school? Any homework I should be worried about? SH

There's a biology project due on Friday, other than that, there's nothing big. JW

Wonderful. SH

When will you be back at school? JW

That's indeterminable at the moment. SH

Why? Are you missing me dreadfully? SH

No, not really. JW

It's a bit boring here without your deducing and making everyone mad at you. JW

So, you miss me. SH

I'm touched. SH

Plus Jim's being a total bother. You've got to stop him. JW

Just ignore him. SH

He hates that. SH

He got gum in my hair and a spit wad in my mouth, how am I supposed to ignore him? JW

I don't know. Buy a visor or something. SH

Thanks for the great advice, O Wise One. JW

You're more than welcome, O Troubled One. SH

Piss off. JW

Now that's just mean. SH

You should be pitying me. I'm fragile. SH

Because you thought taking a weeks worth of medicine would make you better. JW

Who does that? JW

Wait. SH

How did you know about that? SH

Word got around. JW

For fuck's sake. SH

From who? SH

Philip. He is the principal's assistant. JW

fucking Philip. SH

Does everyone know? SH

Almost. JW

Fuck. SH

Sorry. JW

Why? It's not your fault. SH

Kind of is. JW

I asked Philip where you were, then other people asked me, then I told them, and they told other people and whatnot. JW

Oh. SH

Thanks then. SH

Couldn't you have just lied? SH

Told them I got hit by a bus or something? SH

Isn't that worse? JW

Not to me. SH

Well, sorry again. JW

Mm. SH

What are people saying? SH

Nothing really. JW

Good. Make sure it stays that way. SH

Alright. Next time you get sick I'll tell them that you got hit by a bus or some dog ate your legs and you're trying to find some leg donor to get your beloved legs back or something. JW

Wonderful. That would be nice. SH

Though I'm not sure there's going to be a next time. SH

Just so you know. SH

Why not? JW

Turns out it's a little more serious than we first thought. SH

Oh, shit. Are you dying? JW

Only a little. SH

What's going on with you? JW

Leukemia. SH

Oh. Really? JW

Yeah. SH

It's a shame really. SH

I quite liked having my own bone marrow. SH

Are you going to go through chemo? JW

Probably. SH

I don't know. SH

We'll see. SH

I'll miss your curly locks. JW

Shit, I'll miss you. JW

I like how my hair came first. SH

Sorry. JW

It's fine. Tell you what, I'll make you a wig or something. SH

Out of your old hair? JW

Yeah, I'll weave it into some sort of craft for you. SH

You can frame it. SH

How unique. I'll have a clump of hair hanging above my head every night, and when I wake up to see it, I'll think, "This used to belong to the most insane person I have ever known." JW

Wonderful. That'll be nice for you. SH

Do you think I could get some sort of certificate to certify that? SH

I would like people to know I'm the most insane person you know. SH

We probably could. Get it signed by the queen and all. JW

I'd like that. SH

I could hang it above my bed. SH

Then we would match in a way. SH

Yeah, that'd be nice. JW

But instead you have something signed by the queen and I'll have your framed clump of hair. JW

Which is just as good. SH

If not better. SH

Totally. I might even sell the hair on eBay because it's worth so much. JW

How much do you think I'd get for it? JW

Oh it's priceless John. I couldn't possibly say. SH

I could probably buy the crown jewels with the money I get from selling it. JW

Well obviously. SH

I'm not dying John. SH

Just so you know. SH

I've decided. SH

You've decided you're not going to die? I don't think it works like that. JW

It does. SH

Does it now? JW

How does that work? JW

But, if you did die, is there anything you'd want me to do that you wanted to be fulfilled? JW

What do you mean? SH

Like, is there something you want me to do for you in the future? JW

Say for example, go to Where-ever-the-heck-istan and feed starving children in your name. JW

Well, not that. SH

I don't know John, just be happy I guess. SH

I don't want you to be sad. SH

Thanks. JW

I'd probably cry if you died. You're my best friend, you know. JW

Don't cry. SH

And I'm not that guy... Graham? is. SH

Who? JW

You know, Gandolf. SH

Are you even trying to remember his name anymore? It's Greg. JW

No, he's not my best friend, you are. JW

Oh. SH

You're mine too, if you were wondering. SH

Thanks, Sherlock. JW

Though I guess that's obvious. SH

I'm not dying though. SH

Alright, alright, you're not. JW

So when will you be coming back to school then? JW

I'm not sure. SH

My family's being over protective. SH

I'll bring your homework over at your house later. The teacher gave it to me. JW

Thanks. SH

Just be warned I may look a little pale. SH

And tired. SH

Don't you always look like that? JW

True. SH

More so than usual then. SH

Okay, I won't notice it, if that's what you want. JW

Good. Thanks. SH

When's a good time for me to drop off your homework? JW

Do you want anything else? Crisps? Pop? Chocolates? JW

Anytime really. I'm home all day now. SH

Sweets would be good. SH

Something with sugar. SH

Alright, anything sugary. JW

I'm at the store right now, then I'll drop off your homework. JW

Okay, thank you. SH


	2. He Came In Through The Bedroom Window

John turned off his phone and put it in his jacket pocket. He bought different kinds of sweets for Sherlock, not knowing what he wanted, if Sherlock didn't want what he got for him, he guessed he would just take it home to snack on. Adjusting his backpack, he started to head over to Sherlock's house. He decided it would be easier to climb a tree and enter through a window than ring up at the door and be showered with different questions. Luckily, Sherlock's window was open just a crack and he opened it up more to get inside. As he entered the room, he tossed the bag of sugary sweets onto Sherlock's bed, "Here you are, I bought all the things I could afford."

Sherlock twitched slightly as the bag hit him on the leg, pulling the sheets up further around himself before pulling the bag towards him with a soft smile, "Thanks." He murmured, running a hand lightly through his hair which he was sure must be standing on end at this point, "Can I ask why you chose the window?" He chuckled and began to empty the bag onto his lap, tucking his legs up to make room for John.

John got Sherlock's books and papers out of his bag and placed them on his work table before sitting on Sherlock's bed. "I thought it would be quicker," he laughed. "School was a bore, no one corrected the teacher when she said something, I turned back at your desk to look at you but I remembered you weren't there." He took his bag off and laid it on the floor. "How has your day been? Pretty boring I suppose."

Sherlock watched him carefully as he moved about the room, a soft smile playing at his lips as he opened one of the bags in front of him, "Crap." He responded with a slightly chuckle, "My family keep coming in every two seconds to make sure I'm not dead yet. It's terribly tedious."

"You should just text your mum or your dad, something like 'Not dead, yet.' Maybe they'll stop coming up here." He crossed his legs on Sherlock's bed and put his hands on his lap. "I don't think you have to do homework if you have something terminal like this, you can get a doctor's note or something so you don't have to do it. Lucky bastard."

Sherlock shrugged slightly, sitting up a little further in bed, "I'd rather do it. It's boring here." He muttered, holding out the bag to John as he popped a sweet into his mouth, "You can have my doctors note if you want it though."

John smiled, taking a piece out of the bag and popping it into his mouth also, "What would I do with it? Do you want me to frame it, too?" He joked, crunching the sweet in his mouth. "What do you do in here? Do they give you anything to do?" He asked.

Sherlock chuckled, "You could use it to get out of your homework or something." He grinned at him before taking another sweet and rolling his eyes, "No. They've even hidden my medication so I can't even control that anymore."

"It says your name on it, how do I get myself out of homework? 'Sherlock Holmes has leukemia and should be exempt from school activities,' I'm not Sherlock Holmes, am I supposed to scribble out your name and write mine on top?" He asked with a chuckle. "That's a bummer," He said, looking at Sherlock. He was a bit paler than he was used to, maybe even a lot paler. He looked like a ghost.

Sherlock scrubbed at his eyes for a moment, which were prickling oddly, "I don't know. Just tell them you're so distraught that I'm ill that you can't possibly do anything." He smiled slightly then reached for the glass of water beside his bed, frowning at his hand as it shook slightly.

"Sounds like a plan," He grinned cheekily. He looked over at Sherlock's hand, he didn't know to ask if he needed help or not. Sherlock did kind of deny his sickness, so maybe it was best to say nothing about it. He looked at Sherlock again, perfect Sherlock, with his bouncy, raven hair, which looked more flat and grey-ish at the moment, his cheek bones, which seemed to look as if they were jutting out more than ever, everything about him was different.

Sherlock found he had to use both hands to raise the glass to his lips and just hoped John wouldn't think anything of it. He was just tired. That was all. He swallowed a little uncomfortably and placed the glass back into his lap, "What?" He asked suddenly, not in a particularly annoyed way, he was just curious as to why the other boy was staring at him so intently.

John shook his head and looked off to the side, "Nothing, nothing," he assured Sherlock. He turned the opening of the bag towards him and popped another sweet into his mouth. "It must suck having to stay indoors all day 24/7." He sighed.

Sherlock frowned at him for a second more before slowly nodding, "Yeah. It does." He murmured, taking a sweet himself, "I might just leave. You know climb out the window and go on a walk or something."

John smiled, "I could try and help you, we could walk to the park and feed the ducks or something." He moved his fingers along Sherlock's soft blanket, "We could try to build a decoy so your parents think you're peacefully sleeping."

Sherlock looked up at him with a smile, "Really?" He gingerly placed the glass back, a new feeling of excitement bubbling up in his chest, "Out of what?"

John looked around Sherlock's room, "We could use pillows and some of your clothes," he stopped for awhile, thinking about what else they could use, "Maybe some books, I guess. I've done it once. Remember that time we went out to watch that movie? Yeah, I wasn't allowed to go so I built a decoy." He grinned.

Sherlock giggled, sitting up further in bed so the blanket fell around his waist. Revealing that he wasn't wearing a shirt, "Let's do it." He grinned, "It's not like they want to actually talk to me right now anyway."

John nodded, trying not to look down at Sherlock's abdomen. "Alright, you get dressed and I'll make the dummy." He stood up and walked over to Sherlock's dresser to pick out some pyjamas. Dumping the shirt onto the bed he grabbed a pillow. He unbuttoned the shirt and started to slip it onto the pillow. "It'll look like you're in bed sleeping, if we do this right."

Sherlock nodded, getting out of bed and walking over to his dresser to slip on some shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, combing his hair with his fingers, trying to look less like the living dead. Maybe some sunlight would help with how pale he would look. Walking over to John he smiled, "How do I look?"

John looked at the boy, head to toe, "Like you're going to live until you're ninety-two," he grinned. He finished buttoning up the shirt onto the pillow and tucked it into the sheets. "There, I think that's good enough." He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, "Ready to go, Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded, it had been awhile since been outside and soaked in the light of day. He couldn't wait to go outside and forget about everything for a minute or two, then be pulled back into harsh reality that maybe he was slowly dying. "Yeah, I'm ready, let's go out."


End file.
